


Engagement

by explosim



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, First Chapter is G, M/M, Second Chapter is E
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:51:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2187249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explosim/pseuds/explosim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nijimura hasn't met his fiance yet</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Achika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achika/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Negotiations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921353) by [Achika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achika/pseuds/Achika). 



> :D

Nijimura walks into the room, trailing just a step behind his father, and tries to focus on anything other than his buzzing nerves. The lights are low, giving off a cozy atmosphere as the guests talk amongst themselves and he finds himself looking at each one he passes, wondering if maybe they were the one. The room itself seems to be split into two areas, one for mingling, which he and his father are making their way through right now, and the dining area, set up fashionably with tables. It's so ostentatious he has trouble not snorting at it all. He manages not to though, and mentally congratulates himself. It'd be extremely bad if he ended up offending the other family before even properly meeting anyone.

A waiter passes by, tray laden with flutes of champagne and he makes sure to grab one, smiling overly politely when his father rolls his eyes. He figures he deserves at least this for being so cooperative about the whole situation and it'll definitely help with his nerves. Maybe if he's lucky enough he'll manage to get something a little stronger during dinner. Not that he wants to get drunk, maybe just buzzed. Enough to take the edge off and maybe cloud his judgement a little bit so he has something to blame when this all goes horribly wrong because he has serious doubts about any aspects of it going right.

When his father had first proposed the idea of an arranged marriage to him, Nijimura and stood there frozen in place for a good five minutes waiting for a punchline he eventually realized was never going to come. He had plopped himself down in a chair and listened in a confused daze as his dad explained with words like future and stability and partner and America tossed about.

 _America_. He was okay with the rest... mostly. He at least understood _why_ he had to get married to a total stranger (a sense of stability, it'll be good for you, it'll be good for _us_ ). But moving to _America?_ That gave him some hesitation. There was no guarantee that he would even _like_ the other person in this partnership. They would at least take some adjusting to, and he was expected to do it in a foreign land that provided no sense of security? It made him more than a little anxious.

The news itself was so sudden, so life-changing, he spent the first few nights overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. On those nights he barely made it home before 12, trying to sort through all his thoughts and clear his head on the courts. The constant exercise wore him out enough to only allow for about an hour of restless tossing before slipping off into sleep.

Two months later and he had officially moved to America.

A tall man with greying hair and round glasses walks up to them and greets his dad with a friendly pat. They seem to know each other, if his dad's inviting smile is anything to go by, so Nijimura assumes he's the head of the other family. He allows himself a moment of contemplation – this old guy here doesn't look too bad for his age. Hopefully the good looks run in the family. He bows respectfully before remembering _America_ and then extends his hand. It's just one of the things he's had to adjust to since moving. He doesn't mind too much, but the language barrier trips him up the most. It's more frustrating than anything else – not being able to properly communicate with anyone other than his dad, rest of his family is still back in Japan.

He takes another large sip and shoves his other hand deep in his pocket. His father would probably give him a word about acting so casual but he's engaged in conversation with the other guy so Nijimura adds a slouch as well. Occasionally the guests come up to greet him, shake his hand, congratulate him on his engagement. He accepts it all good-naturedly but he really can't be bothered to act any more friendly than that. His eyes keep wandering, searching the countless faces in the crowd for a sign of something a little more interesting than this.

His first week in America was definitely interesting, and not so much in a good way either. Getting accustomed to his surroundings was a pain. Most times he felt he was walking in circles, passing by the same indistinguishable signs over and over again. It didn't help that it was mid summer either – if he managed to make it back to his small temporary apartment without working up a sweat from simply getting groceries he considered it a victory.

Needless to say, he got lost quite often. He'd eventually find his way home, slightly more knowledgeable than when he set out, but he mostly credits that to his phone. There was one time though, a few days after he moved when he _didn't_ have his phone and he doesn't think he'll be forgetting that day anytime soon.

It was the day he found the basketball court (well, he told his father 'found' but it was more like stumbled upon and then never saw again). It was also the day he met what had to be, one of the most gorgeous looking people he'd ever seen in his life.

He remembers it all very acutely – the reddish-orange of the setting sun making the stranger look as if he were glowing, the cool breeze that ruffled his hair attractively, and, most of all, the way he moved across the court with such _alluring_ grace. Nijimura found his feet moving before he'd even made the conscious decision to walk forward.

Standing by the fence, he didn't quite know how long he watched for. The man was so concentrated, so _focused_ , the sun was just barely peeking over the horizon before he realized he had an audience. Nijimura would have been more embarrassed at getting caught staring so openly if he wasn't so captivated (and also a little irritated. He knew a _model_ back in Japan for fucks sake. He should _not_ be this enchanted). To his luck though, the stranger either didn't mind or didn't care. He merely held up the ball and called over to him.

“Do you play?” And _fuck,_ his voice just _had_ to be as pleasant as his face.

Nijimura had nodded, calling out a rough, “Yeah,” before jogging over. They played until late in the evening, scoring basket after basket against each other, not even bothering to keep track. Watching from the sidelines Nijimura could tell the guy was skilled, but _playing_ with him was a completely different experience. He was so proficient with every move he made and every shot he took – it was a very welcome and much needed challenge. Nijimura found his mind completely free from all other distractions for the first time in a while. The ominous cloud of marriage constantly overhead completely dissipated.

“You're quite good,” the other man said. He had leaned against the fence, jacket tossed on a bag at his feet as he wiped the sweat from his face. Nijimura walked over, slowly though, with the ball bouncing steadily beside him so he'd have a place to look if he got caught staring again.

“Thanks. You too.” He paused for a moment, sifting through his head for the words and then added, “I played in high school.”

The other guy smiled, a small soft one that did _things_ to Nijimura's already too fast heart and replied with,“Yeah, me too,” in Japanese and Nijimura was positive he had never before in his life felt such grand relief. He had smiled back, a little on the shy side because _this guy was perfect, wasn't he_ and then carried on the conversation in Japanese.

They talked about their previous schools for a bit and then moved on to various restaurants and stores Nijimura should visit once he had revealed he'd only been there a few days. He didn't really catch much of what was said though – he kept having to remind himself not to stare and actually watch where he was going as they left the court and walked the streets. They walked together (Nijimura had mostly followed) until he stumbled upon a street he recognized and (very reluctantly) parted ways. It wasn't until he was in the shower, head full of shampoo, that Nijimura realized he hadn't even gotten a name.

It's been two weeks since then and Nijimura has yet to see Handsome Basketball Guy again. He's tried to make his way back to the court but he can't, for the life of him, remember which one it was.

And today he's getting _engaged_. Not that he had necessarily hoped for anything to happen between them but, as he stands surrounded by people he doesn't know, talking about things he doesn't care for, and waiting for a fiance he doesn't even know he'll like... he would have really appreciated a familiar face.

The old man with the glasses turns to him and Nijimura straightens up, placing his empty glass on a passing tray. “I'm sorry about my nephew. He's definitely taking his time, isn't he? Not to worry though, he'll be here eventually,” despite his somewhat stern appearances, his eyes are soft, kind, and Nijimura smiles and shakes his head politely.

“I don't mind,” because really, what else is he supposed to say. Definitely not what he _wants_ to say – that he'd much rather be on a court, hopefully playing with Handsome Basketball Guy, and not at this mind numbingly boring event? That he doesn't even blame the other guy for being late in the slightest? Yeah, no.

God, he's itching to go out and play now. Even though he's not at all upset with the other guy – his _fiance_ , the wait has made him nothing but anxious. He loosens his tie and his dad nudges his side.

“You nervous?” He's got this twinkle in his eye.

“Just a bit. I haven't even seen him yet.”

His father squeezes his shoulder. “I think you'll like him. He comes from such a great family,” he says with a nod to the guy with glasses, “It'll be a good match.” Nijimura simply nods along despite the multitude of doubts swirling around in his head. Whatever, he'll make it work somehow.

“Ah, here he is,” the glasses guy, (his future in-law?) calls out to someone behind him, “You sure took your time.” Nijimura turns slowly. There's no going back after this. Not that there was in the first place, but finally _seeing_ him is basically the point of no return. He looks up, taking in the profile of his fiance and – no.

No way.

No _fucking_ way.

This has got to be some cosmic joke because _what the fuck._

The other guy freezes in front of him, surprise clearly showing on his face. Nijimura's sure his own expression is something quite similar.

“You...” Nijimura trails off, he has _no idea_ what to say.

The other guy, _Handsome Basketball Guy_ , looks at him for a moment longer, switches his gaze to his uncle, Nijimura's father, and then back to Nijimura before the realization hits and a slow smile starts to take over his face.

“Oh,” he says, a soft puff of air and Nijimura _does not_ swoon. He _doesn't_ – it's just, his memory didn't do this guy any justice at all. The uncle turns to his nephew in confusion.

“Tatsuya, you know him?” _Tatsuya._ Nijimura smiles as relief washes over and he feels just like he did that first time on the court with him. With _Tatsuya_.

“Yeah,” he says, still looking at Nijimura's face, almost in wonder, “He's the attractive guy I met while playing basketball. I told you about him.” He says it casually, almost like an offhand remark but that doesn't stop Nijimura from blushing horribly.

Somewhat awkwardly, he sticks out his hand, “Shuuzou.”

Tatsuya grasps it, his touch much too soft for a proper handshake, “Tatsuya. Nice to officially meet you, Shuu. My apologies for making you wait.”

Nijimura shakes his head, a little flustered (pleased) at the nickname, “No problem.”

And, as he sits across from Tatsuya during dinner, neither of their eyes straying very far from one another, he's finally assured that there really isn't one at all.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> completely unnecessary chapter. im very sorry

All things considered, Nijimura's fucking amazed they managed to hold back for two whole months before anything happened. _Especially_ considering he was _so ready_ for just about _anything_ after  less than a week of living together. When he first saw Tatsuya playing on a court, all focused and sweaty and so amazingly graceful, Nijimura remembers thinking he was gorgeous. And he _was,_ he'll never forget how good he looked, standing there with the sun at his back, faced flushed, out of breath – he thinks about it more often than he likes to admit.

But that was  _nothing_ to how Tatsuya looks when he's curled up on the couch, nose almost pressed to the page of a book, or just seconds after he wakes up, blinking blearily at the walls with a little frown on his face. Absolutely  _nothing_ to the gleeful excitement in his eyes when  he's swarmed by children all vying for his attention, begging for him to teach them.

Every. Single. Time. Nijimura's found himself completely speechless – thoroughly  _floored_ by how much he  _wants_ because it's so drastically different from  what he was introduced to but it also really isn't at all. In these moments, Tatsuya's not the hard concentrated man he first saw, or even the confident gentle one from their first official meeting,  but instead a mix of the two except without  _any_ reservations .  He's so perfectly at ease in these moments and it's more beautiful than just about anything else Nijimura's seen.

Sometimes, he'll catch himself staring for minutes on end, not a single coherent thought passing through his brain. Worst though (for his head... and probably his heart as well), is when Tatsuya includes him – when he shuffles over and burrows down against Nijimura's side, resting his head softly against his shoulder, when he walks over and slips his hand into Nijimura's, eagerly pulling him over to play with the kids as well. It feels like his heart is twisting and his stomach is doing loops and he can't help but want to kiss him.

And they  _do_ kiss, thank fuck for that. Nijimura  doesn't think he could have lasted those two months without Tatsuya's lips against  h is, soft presses that make him  _feel_ , that are almost too tender to deal with. Or even the more recent harder ones, the ones that are rough and careless – Tatsuya's hand fisted in his hair, holding him still while  Nijimua's hands  are free to  roam and  _touch._

But the ones right now, the slow moving _lazy_ caress of Tatsuya's lips against his – they're on a whole other level of _intense_ and Nijimura's body can't help but respond in kind, not when he was already halfway there. For the first time in a while he's grateful they share a bed. Morning boners were nothing but embarrassing and awkward, but for this, this passive 2am sleepy make out session they've got going on, it's perfect.

And it makes it so much _easier_ when Tatsuya throws a leg over his hip, hot wet _fucking delicious_ mouth moving down his jaw to just behind his ear as he seats himself, straddles Nijimura's waist. The added weight feels _amazing,_ pushing him down, holding him in place as Tatsuya's strong lean body covers him, tongue doing things to make Nijimura moan louder than intended.

He wraps his arms around Tatsuya's body, holding him tighter than he knows he needs to but he can't let go, not when the only thought in his head is to hold Tatsuya closer, to make him feel better than he's ever felt before. His hips roll and he's _not_ prepared for the sound Tatsuya makes in his ear, the desperate little gasp that turns into a moan and sends a hot _fuzz_ through his body. He wants to hear it again, over and over until his voice grows hoarse and all he can do is silently scream.

Instead though, Tatsuya speaks. Low and rough and Nijimura can _hear_ how aroused he is, how much effort it's taking to get the words out when he says, “I think- I _really_ think you should ride me,” and there's no way in hell he's going to say no.

He rolls them over, lips moving leisurely against each other as he blindly searches Tatsuya's drawer for the lube (he _knows_ it's there. Tatsuya knows he knows it's there. Those two months were _hell_ ) and starts to prep himself. It should be weird, it _should_ be a little more uncomfortable but Nijimura can't bring himself to care about anything other than Tatsuya's eyes on him, face flushed and biting his lips with such barely restrained want.

He doesn't even know what the fuck to do when Tatsuya slides a wet dripping finger in alongside his, pushing up with deliberate slowness, _feeling_ _inside_ _._ He's sure he moans, perhaps even screams, but doesn't know, doesn't even care – he's more focused on Tatsuya's face, taking in the way his eyes widen and his mouth parts and _fuck_ he really wants to see –

Tatsuya's hands find their way around Nijimura's waist, pushing him down, _guiding him,_ at the same easy measured pace as earlier and Nijimura's thighs are _burning_ before he's fully seated. The stretch is so much _more_ than expected and he has to pause, dig his fingers into Tatsuya's chest and _breathe._ Tatsuya rubs him gently, hands smoothing their way along his back, up his thighs, all the way down to where his dick is buried in Nijimura's ass making him shiver and clench – making _both_ of them moan. He's talking too, soft _are you alright? Shhh, I'm right here._ _G_ _o slow,_ and _fuck_ Nijimura _really_ likes the sound of his voice.

They roll their hips slowly, keeping up a steady pace that lasts too long for either of them to keep track of in any way other than the gradual heavy pressure that builds and builds. As much as Nijimura's hated those two months, he's starting to think that maybe it was for the best because it makes _this_ all the more rewarding. His body feels hot and heavy and he can feel himself shaking as the pleasure shoots through him, stronger each time. Mostly though, he's completely captivated by the _absolute fucking bliss_ on Tatsuya's face. It's so fucking nice to look at, to know that _he's_ the one who made Tatsuya lose himself in such a way. And when he feels Tatsuya come inside him, hot and wet and most definitely going to ooze out down his thighs later because they didn't use fucking a condom, he can't help but think that Tatsuya  _probably_ has some supernatural ability to look good  _anywhere_ but here in bed he looks more wrecked than anything else and Nijimura's infinitely glad he's the only one who gets to see it.

 


End file.
